


world gone mad

by desrouleaux



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Mental Health Issues, Past Sexual Abuse, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 08:24:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21033218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desrouleaux/pseuds/desrouleaux
Summary: Society has labeled you an unstable misfit, too broken to be fixed and too dangerous to live among Gotham’s citizens any longer. A chain of past events leads you to a bitter fate eventually – or does it?“So this is where we are; it’s not where we had wanted to be. If half the world’s gone mad, the other half just don’t care, you see.” – World Gone Mad by Bastille





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So, someone asked me if I could start a multiple-chapter fic for the new Joker origin movie and well, here we are haha
> 
> I already have a whole plotline and I'm reeeeeeally excited for this story! ♥
> 
> Story Soundtrack: World Gone Mad by Bastille
> 
> Cheers!

“So, tell me a little about yourself”

Your eyes flick down to the Doctor’s name tag – Dr. Salazar. You have troubles remembering her name for some reason. The elderly woman stares at you with her hands neatly folded over a thick file – your file. Her glasses rest on the tip of her pointy nose, her eyes overlooking them as she surveys you.

You shift on the uncomfortable seat and nod your chin towards the file which lay on the pompous wooden desk. “You have my documents”, you say eventually. “you know me pretty good already I suppose”

Dr. Salazar looks down briefly and clicks her tongue. “I read your reports, that is correct, but I’d like to get to know you by your own narrative”

You sigh and squeeze your burning eyes shut for a second. The gaudy white light of her desk lamp makes you feel as you’re sitting in interrogation. You lean down to rub your eyes before you look up at her again. “What’s the point of that? I’m stuck here anyway”, you say with a spiteful shrug of your shoulders.

“Please, (Y/N), I’m here to help you”

You don’t believe her and she knows. “If you say so –“, you mumble and start playing with the hem of your white shirt.

“You remember our deal, don’t you?” Dr. Salazar asks sternly and her piercing gaze is starting to annoy you. You click your tongue in annoyance and take deep, defeated, breath.

“Alright…” 

* * *

Your hands are tucked into the deep pockets of your leather jacket, gripping your Walkman with one hand and pressing the rewind button to start the previous song anew.

You’re slipping through the crowd on one of Gotham’s main streets swiftly while your eyes are fixated on the messy floor. It’s Friday and nearly everyone is rushing to call it a day, except you.

The smell of rotten trash and heavy smog fills your nostrils and with your other hand you reach for the pack of cigarettes in your back pocket. You had only started smoking since you moved to Gotham, partly to cover up the many stenches, partly because you just don’t care about your health anymore.

You squeeze one plain cigarette between your lips and light it expertly without slowing your steps. You had received that particular lighter as a gift when you first started working as a waitress at one of the many local strip clubs. It’s pale pink and the small picture of a nude dancer is already starting to come off little by little from you constant fumbling with it. You put it back into your pocket and inhale deeply.

Your legs operate with pure muscle memory and soon you find yourself standing in front of the filthy entrance of your workplace – Le Délice, as the red luminous letters read. Tony, the inhumanly tall bouncer, greets you with a quick nod of his shaved head and opens the creaking black doors for you.

There are some guests already mostly sitting around in the lounge or hanging around, watching the girls dance on the brightly lit stage. You keep your head down as you scurry through the gloomy establishment to the door leading you backstage. You still have to put on your uniform before you can start your night shift.

* * *

“Just to be clear, you’re not talking about _that_ night, are you?”, Dr. Salazar asks you curiously and puts her, needlessly complicated, crested pen down.

You scoff mockingly. “Hell no, I’m just setting the mood, Doc”

Dr. Salazar purses her lips before she picks up the pen once more to scribble into her notebook. “Of course” She sighs and puts the pen back again. “Well – this has been highly successful” You notice the wry undertone in her voice, but you don’t care. You’re just here for the reward.

“It has?”

She nods and you can hear the pillbox rattling as she fetches it from one of her desk drawers. “– but I’m afraid we’re at the end of our session for today” She places one single white pill in front of you, but you know you can’t reach it. “Ahem”, you harrumph and shake your hands a little. The chains of your handcuffs are tied to your chair and jangle at your sudden movements.

“Oh, right…sorry”

Just as Dr. Salazar wants to get up from her chair, the door to her office opens and the guard who had brought you here walks in.

“Wonderful, you’re just in time, Officer”, the Doc says with a smile as he unshackles you. You rub your wrists and snatch the pill from the desk before the guard grabs your upper arm to guide you outside.

“Same time tomorrow, Doc?”

The women nods and you roll your eyes as your back is turned to her. Officer Miller pushes you a little as you step into the clinically white hallway.


	2. ashes

You’re tugging the black mini skirt down as far as you can, but its fabric only manages to cover half of your thighs and you’re thankful that your boss, Joe, allowed you to wear thin black tights underneath. The white blouse is just as uncomfortable and form-fitting. It shows your cleavage off and makes your breasts seem enormous. You hate it so fucking much.

“Hey, babygirl” A sudden high-pitched voice keeps you from fumbling at your uniform. You can hear the clatter of her plateau high heels, as Malou struts up to you, hips swaying.

“Hi”, you greet her quietly and force yourself to look at her eyes instead of her bouncing tits. She’s wearing a high-waisted black thong and knee-high plateau boots. Her bottle blond hair cascades down her slim shoulders, down her back. Her body is skinny, but her bosom is not.

“You look cute today, did you cut your hair?”

You shake your hair slowly, hypnotized by her excessive make-up. “Not really, ah –“ You point at the door which leads to the front of the bar. “My shifts starts in a minute, I want to make sure that we’re stocked on everything”

Malou giggles. It’s the same fake laugh she uses for her clients. “Alright, babygirl. Let’s hope for a busy night” She walks towards the small steps of stairs that leads onto the stage and slaps her own ass audibly. “Mama needs a new pair of heels!”

You open a bottle of beer while you let your gaze wander around the room. The club is getting more crowded by every minute and the few girls who are present are more than busy with private dances and dancing on the poles on stage. You feel a little safer behind the bar counter, however your anxiety and uncomfortableness never truly leaves you.

You spot Malou dancing for five businessmen in the corner of the club. She’s smiling suggestively and teasing a guy who then slips a ten dollar bill under the straps of her thong. She loves the attention and you’re still proud of your idea to actively get a job where no focus would ever be on you. You’re hiding in plain sight.

* * *

“So, she was a friend of yours?”, Dr. Salazar cuts in and looks up from her notepad.

You blow out smoke through your nose and shrug. “Sort of, I guess”

“Were there others you were close to? Apart from work?”

You tip the burning cigarette at the edge of the small ashtray that was placed in your lap and shake your head. “We’re not there yet, Doc”

Dr. Salazar leans back in her chair and nods. “I see – did you always want to stay under the radar or was there any time you became, say, jealous of the other girls for getting all the positive attention?”

The cigarettes shakes a little in your hand as you stare at her blankly. “Jealous?” You scoff. “Have you been paying attention? Of course not!”, you say and nearly spit out the last part.

“There’s no need to raise your voice, (Y/N). It’s my job to dig just a little deeper” The doctor has put her hand up in defense.

“Fuck that”, you hiss and suck on the cigarette. You don’t feel like talking anymore.

“(Y/N)…think about our deal”

“Fuck”, you breathe and run a hand through your hair.

* * *

Your shift ends uneventfully, thank god, and you quickly leave backstage to change into your own clothes again. It’s 4:30 AM when you finally exit the strip club with a small wave of goodbye over your shoulder.

You quickly light up a cigarette as you walk in the direction of the nearby bus stop. You can hear police sirens in the distance, but it doesn’t bother you. You’re more anxious if no sirens can be heard, honestly. You reach the empty bus stop in no time and sit down on the old brown bench, one hand inside your pocket, the other occupied by your cigarette. Your knee starts shaking a little as the bus arrives and halts in front of you. You throw the cigarette bud away before you step in.

There are some strange figures inside the bus, so you decide to take a seat in the front, close to the grumpy, tired-looking bus driver; as if he’d help in any situation anyway. You lean your head against the bus window and watch the colors of the street lamps mingle and blur as the bus drives past them. You usually walk to and from work to safe money, but tonight your feet hurt too much from wearing those fucking pumps.

Your leg starts shaking more as the bus arrives at your destination.

The house you live in is a shithole, there’s just no other way to describe it. You live on the fifth floor and there is no elevator, so everyday you have to listen to the old stairs creaking uncomfortably as you walk up to your apartment. Your chest tightens as soon as you reach your front door.

You throw your leather jacket on the very first piece of furniture, which happens to be a small commode next to the entrance and lock the door behind you. Your stomach growls, but you walk past your kitchen, into your living room. You sit down on the battered brown couch and reach for the small casket underneath it. With trembling hands, you open it and the smell of weed immediately fills your nostrils and calms you down a bit.

You roll a joint with some tobacco and blaze it up before you take a greedy drag. There’s this pressure in your lungs before you exhale slowly and you sink back into the soft cushions. Your limbs start to feel numb and your mind calms down slowly but surely.

The rest of the second joint dangles from your lips as you watch yourself in your small bathroom mirror. You’re only wearing your panties, no shirt, nothing else. Your feet are cold as you stand on the bare floor. You don’t know what time it is, but it’s no longer too dark outside. You guess it must be around 6 AM, but your sight is too blurry to take a look at your watch. Your eyes are red-rimmed; from the drugs or your excessive crying, who knows.

Your reach out to touch your cheek and wipe away one of many fallen tears, you rub it between your thumb and index finger and it feels weird. You take another long drag and nearly cough. Your throat is dry and your mouth feels sticky. You’re thirsty and you smack your lips together slowly.

* * *

“Did you use anything else besides marijuana?”

You’re rolling the smooth ashtray between your hands and you like the feeling of it. “(Y/N)? Did you hear what I was saying?”, Dr. Salazar inquires again, insistently now.

You breathe in slowly as you look up. ”Yeah” One corner of your mouth twitches as you smirk at her. “but this is all I can give you today, Doc. Can I have my drugs now, please?”

You hold her stern gaze easily and she caves in first eventually, sighing. “Okay, fine”

You can hear the familiar rattling before you actually see the orange pillbox and just as she reaches her hand out, you lift your cuffed hands up.

“Oh, right – Officer Miller!”, she calls out and takes off her glasses before she pinches the bridge of her nose. A short moment passes before the guard steps inside the office again. He snatches the ashtray from your hand without any protest of you, just as you promised before the session, and places it on the doctor’s desk before he unshackles you again with a tight frown on his already grim face. He hates his job so much. You laugh internally.

“I will get these answers from you tomorrow, (Y/N)”, Dr. Salazar says just as Officer Miller guides you through the door. You scoff quietly.

“We’ll see about that”, you mutter to yourself.

* * *

The cell door gets locked behind you and you can see the disdain for you in Miller’s eyes before he turns on his heels and leaves down the hall. The echoing squeak of his black boots makes you giggle.

You take a look out of the small window to make sure no one else is around before you walk towards your pathetic narrow bed. You pull it away from the wall and lift the white sheet off the mattress on the head end to reveal the tiny hole you had dug in it recently. You stick the small pill in it and erase all traces before you lay down with a groan.

You stare at the ceiling for minutes, twiddling your thumbs, as you can suddenly hear voices on the hallway. You lift your head, but you can’t hear better.

Carefully, you sneak back to your cell door and press your ear against it. It’s cold at first and not too clear, but enough to eavesdrop.

“– I tell ya, Miller, shit’s getting crazier out there every day!”

You know that’s Randy or Randall or whatever his name is. He’s here to relay for the evening shift.

“Yeah, I’ve heard about it – those clown rioters are back at it again, right? I heard something like that this morning on the radio, but I had to leave early because my wife, ah, never mind.”

You can hear the rattling of the heavy set of keys as Miller presumably hands it over to Randy-Randall. If only you could take a peek.

“Anyways, we still got the crazy motherfucker who started it, so we should be good, no?” Randy-Randall laughs, Miller does not. They part ways and it’s quiet again.

You frown and sit down on the floor, your arms embracing your knees tightly; you let your head fall back against the metal door with a clunk and you ignore the sharp pain.

Damn, you have to get out of here.


	3. playdate

You lay on the uncomfortable bed which was more than a cheap cot than an actual bed. Your empty eyes are staring at the white ceiling. There is nothing but white, not even a little speck of color here or there, no kind of stimulation. Everything was white and blank and boring. It’s slowly driving you insane. No wonder you dissociate more than usual since you were thrown into the small-sized cell by yourself and nothing to distract yourself with.

You hear heavy footsteps coming to a halt in front of your cell’s metal door and the familiar sound of a complicated lock opening. The door squeaks hollowly as it opens and it echoes through the empty hallway. You swing your legs over the mattress as soon as Officer Miller enters your cell, grumpy as ever.

“Hello, handsome!”, you greet him overly friendly. You know he wants to tell you to shut up, but he doesn’t. His lips are sealed, pressed together tightly under his thick dark moustache.

“Up so I can see ‘em”, he grumbles, meaning your hands. “Aren’t we past this already?”, you ask with a roll of your eyes as you lift your hands. “I promise I have nothing to stab you with – or whatever these nutjobs do around here”

He ignores your statement and guides you outside.

You immediately notice the open door of the cell just cattycorner from yours. You halt in your steps as a feeling of burning curiosity washes over you; the first exciting feeling in a while.

“Move”, Officer Miller grumbles lowly and pushes you a little. “Wait”, you protest absentmindedly. “who lives in there?”

The guard shoves you more forcefully and you continue walking. “That’s none of your business”

You take a glance inside – it’s empty. Bummer. 

* * *

Officer Miller pushes you down on the chair harshly and puts your handcuffs on swiftly. “I don’t usually do that before the third date”, you joke, but earn no reaction from him. He keeps a straight face, but you know you’re getting on his nerves.

Your eyes shift to the desk. Dr. Salazar is not present yet, which is unusual by itself already. “Hey, can I get a cigarette at least?”

“Wait and don’t move a muscle”, Officer Miller commands you warningly, again ignoring your previous question. He tries to sound authoritative, but it doesn’t work – at least not on you. He leaves with an annoyed shake of his head and shuts the heavy door behind him.

“Alright…thanks for the cigarette”, you say sarcastically and hope he can hear it. “– tastes so good”

No reaction.

You look at the door; he didn’t close it properly and it’s still a crack open. You sink back in your chair with a sigh. “Don’t even try”, you mumble to yourself. However, your ears perk up at the sudden sound of pumps walking down the hall swiftly and stopping right in front of the door.

Next, you can hear the hushed voices of Dr. Salazar and Miller. You can barely make out any words, though they seem important and urgent.

You sit up straight as soon as Dr. Salazar walks inside and practically plops door on her chair. She’s a little out of breath and seems stressed. Her usually neat appearance is disturbed by her attitude and the loose strands of her topknot falling into her face. She takes a deep breath and assorts her already tidy desk.

“Busy day?”, you ask eventually. She looks at you for the first time as if your presence is a surprise. Her wrinkled lips pull up in a apologizing smile.

“No, I just have a lot of responsibilities and places to be as the head psychologist at this facility” She waves you off with a small, yet nervous, chuckle. “But, please, don’t worry about it”

_Why would you?_ You arch an eyebrow up in question as she gets out your file and puts it down in front of her.

“Who’s the toughest patient here at the moment?”, you suddenly ask bluntly.

Dr. Salazar opens her notebook and looks up at you with that estimating glare in her blackish-brown eyes. “I’d like to talk about your family today. Is that okay for you, (Y/N)?”

You frown at her. _What’s up with all the avoiding of your questions today?_

“No”, you answer and continue with a counter question. “What’s up with that empty room I passed on the hallway? Miller wouldn’t tell me about it”

Dr. Salazar’s shoulders slouch as she lets out a sigh of frustration.

“That’s really unprofessional, you know?”, you remark with a sly smirk on your lips. Today’s challenge is getting on everyone’s nerves apparently.

“Can you tell me why you are interested in other patients quite suddenly?”, she inquires, obviously dismissing your previous comment.

You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly.

“Alright –“ Dr. Salazar leans back in her chair, staring at you for a moment, before she crosses her arms in front of her chest. “let’s take turns then. I answer one of your questions first and you answer mine, hm?”

You snort and it tingles in your throat. “What if you’re lying to me?”

She smiles at you, challengingly. “What if **you** are?”

You smirk in return. “I think you should be able to figure out if a patient is lying to you or not, eh? You know, as a professional and all”

She ponders a second and clicks her tongue before she speaks. “Something tells me you can do that, too, (Y/N)”

You keep quiet and the banter is settled.

“You go first, (Y/N)”

You smack your lips together as you think; you wish you had a cigarette right now. “Hm” You let your mind wander some before you speak again.

“Do you have children?”

The small smile on her lips freezes and it takes a split-second before she regains her composure. You wanted to ask if she’s married first, but you remembered the golden wedding ring she is always wearing.

“I’m afraid I can’t talk about my personal life with you, (Y/N)” She looks relieved as she remembers that fact; like a loophole she just found.

You really need a cigarette now.

“We didn’t limit the no-go’s, Doc. A deal’s a deal”

Dr. Salazar takes off her glasses and places them on her desk neatly. She knows she’s in trouble and caves in with a sigh.

_If you play with fire, you’ll get burned._

“I don’t have any children –“, she admits and it is the way she says it that gives you even more info.

“By choice?”

She’s biting her tongue now as she stares at you and shakes her head eventually.

“So, it’s either you or your husband’s fault, huh?” The chain of your handcuffs jangle a little as you start twiddling your thumbs. This is about to get interesting.

“One question, (Y/N)”, Dr. Salazar reminds you with a firm gaze. You press your lips together as you hold her look. She knows you’re messing with her.

“Tell me about your siblings”

“That’s not a question”, you retort.

“Right” She folds her hands in her lap. “Do you see yourself as the so called black sheep of the family?”

You think for a second before you shake your head. “My mother has five children, my dad only took part in the making –“ You swallow audibly and let out a chuckle. “Sorry, ah, can I get a cigarette?” You point at the pack on her desk, right next to the ashtray. “I’ve been looking at them since I sat down, haha”

Dr. Salazar grabs the pack, opens it and leans over the wide desk. You take two at once and the lighter follows. It’s silver and heavy in your hand; must be expensive. You light the first one and relish the taste. “So, where was I?”

“You were talking about your parents”

“Hm” You take another long drag and nod. “– right, so my mother took care of us by herself while my dad was” You put the next word in quotation marks. “working”

A sudden loud knock at the door interrupts you; it opens before Dr. Salazar can say anything.

“I’m sorry, doctor, but I’m here to remind you of our emergency meeting”

You turn around to look at the stranger. It’s not Officer Miller, he’s not even a guard. He seems to be a young doctor, one who is still unimportant enough to play the errand boy. He looks at you briefly, but says nothing.

“Of course” Dr. Salazar sighs and puts your file away. “Thank you, Dr. Reed” She turns her attention back to you. “I’m sorry, (Y/N), but we have to postpone today’s session. I’ll get Officer Miller to bring you back to your room”

You want to protest, but she leaves before you can do so. You’re angry and bite your cheek until it hurts. The cigarette between your fingers has gone out. “Fuck”

You look back at her desk and see the pack and lighter lay tauntingly next to the table lamp, just out of your reach. Your jaw tenses and your leg begins to shake.

The door opens again and Officer Miller is at your side, unshackling you like always. “Get up”, he says and grabs your upper arm to hoist you up. You stumble forwards dramatically, right on top of the desk. He curses under his breath before he grabs you again.

“Get moving”

* * *

As you walk through the hallway, you notice the door from before is closed again. You take another peek inside as you pass it and you’re surprised to see someone stare back at you curiously. You slow down.

His face is keen, framed with wavy brown hair, a sharp jawline and a prominent nose. His thick dark eyebrows pull up as a smirk appears on his lips.

The corner of your mouth twitches upwards intuitively to mirror his smile.

“I said move!”, Officer Miller barks and pushes you again. “And you – get the fuck away from that window!”

You dare another look over your shoulder as you walk away and the stranger waves goodbye.

The cell door locks behind you and you’re alone again. You look at your bed and a thought pops into your mind. Dr. Salazar forgot to give you your meds. You lean your forehead against the cold metal and suck in a breath.

Suddenly the lighter feels heavy in your pants pockets. You take it out rapidly, along with the half empty pack of cigarettes.

You flip the lighter closed with a flick of your thumb and watch the smoke rise to the ceiling as you lay down on your bed.

You’ll get a double-dose tomorrow.


End file.
